Changing Paintings: 57 The sacrifice of Iphigenia

As Ovid ended Book Eleven of his Metamorphoses with some unrelated myths, he returns to the story of the war against Troy in the opening of Book Twelve. King Priam, father of Aesacus and King of Troy, is then linked with his other son Paris, whose abduction of Helen triggered the Greeks to launch ‘a thousand ships’ to start their war against Troy.

The Greek fleet gathered at Aulis in Boeotia, where they made sacrifices to Jupiter in preparation for their departure. Just as the Greeks were preparing a sacrifice they saw an omen, when a snake slithered up a plane tree and seized a nest of nine birds. This was interpreted by Calchas as portending their success against Troy, but only after nine years of war. With that the snake was turned into stone.

Despite their sacrifice, the sea remained stormy and prevented the fleet from sailing. Some claimed this was because Neptune had helped build the walls of Troy (as Ovid had told earlier), but Calchas said that it would require the sacrifice of a virgin to satisfy Diana, whom Agamemnon, leader of the Greek forces, had offended. Agamemnon had to set aside his love for his daughter Iphigenia, and in his role as king, give her as a sacrifice to propitiate Diana.

Ovid is meticulous in leaving open whether the princess was really killed, or a deer acted as her proxy, so accommodating the many variants of this story with their conflicting outcomes.

Domenichino (1581–1641), The Sacrifice of Iphigenia (c 1609), fresco, dimensions not known, Palazzo Giustiniani-Odescalchi, Viterbo, Italy. Wikimedia Commons.

Among the earliest post-classical depictions is Domenichino’s fresco in Viterbo, Italy, of The Sacrifice of Iphigenia from about 1609. The princess kneels, her wrists bound together, as an axe is about to be swung at her neck. Onlookers at the left are distraught, as Agamemnon at the right watches impassively. But in the distance, Diana is leading a deer towards the altar, ready to make the substitution.

Charles de La Fosse (1636–1716), The Sacrifice of Iphigenia (1680), oil on canvas, 224 x 212 cm, Château de Versailles, Versailles, France. Wikimedia Commons.

Charles de La Fosse’s The Sacrifice of Iphigenia (1680), now hanging in the Versailles palace, uses a powerful triangular composition to arrange the figures, with Diana at the top, telling Agamemnon to spare the young woman, to his evident surprise. His large sacrificial knife, dropped from Agamemnon’s right hand, rests by Iphigenia’s right foot. At the lower right, one of the Greek warriors, possibly Achilles, is still resigned to her sacrifice, but the warrior standing above is already smiling with relief.

Giovanni Battista Tiepolo (1696–1770), The Sacrifice of Iphigenia (1770), oil on canvas, 65 × 112 cm, Private collection. Wikimedia Commons.

Many other artists painted this story in the meantime, but the next outstanding work is Tiepolo’s Sacrifice of Iphigenia almost a century later, in 1770. Iphigenia sits, almost spotlit with her pale flesh, as the priest, perhaps Agamemnon, looks up to the heavens, with the knife held in his right hand. In a direct line with that hand comes Diana in her characteristic divine cloud, ready with the substitute deer. Below is a group of women, already holding the sacred bowl up to catch the sacrificial victim’s blood, and in the left distance are some of the thousand ships of the Greek fleet, waiting to sail.

Jacques-Louis David (1748–1825), The Anger of Achilles (1819), oil on canvas, 105.3 x 145 cm, Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth, TX. Wikimedia Commons.

My next choice is an unusual painting by Jacques-Louis David, who develops the story using other sources, and packs his figures close together to great effect, in The Anger of Achilles from 1819. Iphigenia had already been promised by her father as a bride to Achilles, and the announcement of her impending sacrifice throws Achilles into the first of his many rages.

Achilles, at the left, reaches for his sword in an uncomfortable manoeuvre with his right arm. A rather masculine and tearful woman just to the right of him is Queen Clytemnestra, Iphigenia’s mother, and her right hand rests on Iphigenia’s shoulder. Iphigenia is dressed as a bride, and looks wistful, staring into the distance, her face empty of outward emotion. At the right, Agamemnon appears emotionless, but indicates firmly to Achilles for him to restrain his emotions.

Louis Billotey (1883-1940), Iphigenia (1935), media and dimensions not known, Musée d’Art et d’Industrie de Roubaix, Roubaix, France. Wikimedia Commons.

Over a century later, more modern artists continued to paint this story. Louis Billotey, who had won the Prix de Rome in 1907 but is now forgotten, painted his version of Iphigenia in 1935. Clytemnestra looks distant at the left as she leads her daughter towards the sacrificial altar beside her. Diana, marked only by her bow and hunting dog, stands at the right, as the deer runs past.

No matter how it ends, the myth of Iphigenia’s sacrifice is a glimpse back into a dark and distant past, at humans whose commitment to savage rituals overrode their humanity to one another.

With Diana’s wrath assuaged, the winds and sea abate, and the Greek fleet sets sail for Troy.